Spheres
by LadyJaneGray
Summary: On her own now, Sarah creates a path of her own....or at least she thinks she does. What happens when someone tries to forget and another strives to survive? Full of action, adventure and romance! M rating for future chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**::Ahem:: I do not in any way, shape or form (that's right, I could even be an albatross and this would still be true!) own the Labyrinth or any of its characters. Although, I wouldn't mind owning a certain Goblin King, wink wink nudge nudge.**

Chapter One.

She threw the sheets that had tumbled around her body in a fit of strangled rage. Never one to admit defeat, Sarah slipped one limb at a time in a painfully slow effort to release herself from her fuzzy prison. Stumbling to the floor, she stifled a grunt. Shoving the now docile bed sheets to the corner of the bed she sat up and hunched over, with legs spread out wide and elbows resting on her knees. She breathed in and let out a huff of air. Sarah was determinedly NOT sleeping. Almost cruelly taunting, the alarm clock reveled in it's own orange glow, as if proclaiming that it could sleep in while she, most assuredly, could not.

The same old, boring routine as usual. At least that was what it was supposed to be. No, her body definitely did not want to follow a mere routine, ever one to be gracefully (and sometimes not always so) independent, it sought now to separate her again from the sleeping world around her. Even the weather outside slept sullenly, with nothing but a slight drizzle and stars resting on thin clouds.

Swirling with images of her dream, Sarah stood up and listened to the silence all around her. Sleeping was one of the things that she was very good at and it was surprising that tonight was any different. Nothing big or important had happened that morning nor was anything due to happen tomorrow. Routine had all but taken over life, and she was somewhat comfortable with that. It was nice to know what was going to happen the next day, no surprises to change her comfortable way of life. No, she was just fine with the idea that she would wake up in the morning, stretch out her stiff limbs, meander to the bathroom and slather some toothpaste on her toothbrush.

"I'm the only one that can stand to see myself in the morning anyways," she thought sullenly. This whole waking up business was certainly something that was left out on her list of things to do. Oh God. Her lists.

"Just another day," she wondered, "apparently not."

Sarah had created a detailed list every night before she fell asleep since she had moved into her updated apartment near the edge if the city three months ago. It had been a steal, only a tiny bit over her budget and if she walked to the corner of the living room and stood at just the right height, she could see a view of the ocean. As soon as she saw those crystalline waves crashing upon the shore, she knew it had to be hers. Sarah filled out the forms as quickly as she could while still keeping a hawk's eye on the fine details. Her Father had always told her, "the devil's in the details, Sarah." And he was, too.

Having a fairly successful businessman in the family would always be something she was secretly proud of. Although never one to admit it, she enjoyed the little laps of luxury a well-to-do family could provide. By no means was she among the wealthy, yet her Father had made them sufficiently comfortable with enough left over to spoil themselves every once and a while.

After turning in the papers to the agent, who had an obvious penchant for tanning beds and eyeliner, she jumped in her car and drove to the beach. Even after going to college for four years here, she was never able to get over the surprise at seeing the sun kissed rocks and the weather beaten crabs scurry from nearby crannies to the barely overflowing tide pools. Here, Sarah was able to sit down and clear her mind. The deafening roar of the surf blocked out the cars, the children and the flirting teens and allowed a certain type of freedom avoided by most. She found herself most content when she could discover a little niche for herself, a makeshift hermits hovel, to be alone.

She had done it, she thought to herself, she had made it this far. Getting through college was difficult, not because of the pressure of grades, but from the pressure of socializing. It seemed she had her priorities in a messy and convoluted twist. Her grades had been passable, nothing extraordinary, mainly a half-hearted effort to master the material given and a logical enough brain to do the rest. But where she averaged in "B's" in academia, her grade point average for partying and general college tomfoolery was a resounding "F-."

"If one was possible," she grunted.

Parties had NOT been fun. Sure, a pile of drunken 'Bro's' was funny to look at, but only for the first five or ten minutes. After that, her threshold had hit its quota. The equally pissed girls, semi clad in anything that could be described as mini skirts to barely-there tank tops, came right along with boys. Fighting fire with fire. When Sarah had stepped into the compound of the bumping and grinding mass, she immediately felt like a firefly trapped in a jar. She suddenly became claustrophobic in the jiving and giggling 20-somethings.

"Oh, come on Sarah!" her friend Lily groaned. Not much more of a partier than Sarah was, Lily had a wild streak that years of bitterness towards concerned parental watchfulness had built up. Lily had told Sarah the first time they met that she had planned to be open to any opportunity or situation possible. Well, maybe not ANY situation, but if they didn't involve certain death or leeches, she was all for it.

Lily had dragged Sarah past the edges of the party into the center of the mob. Gyrating next to a particularly unfocussed and a shit-eating grin looking guy, Lily looked to be right at home in the midst of the party revelers. Sarah threw a look at Lily, and quickly replaced her expression with one that emulated the downward looking and slightly smiling girls around her. Assimilating herself to the bodies around her was easier than it looked, but soon became taxing and unnerving. The longer it went on, the more boys stroked her and she was given lecherous looks.

Sarah bolted from the near-orgy surrounding her, leaving Lily behind to release her rebellious nature. As soon as she had freed herself, Sarah inhaled deeply, receiving all the heavily carbon dioxide dosed air her lungs could carry. How could people like that? Sliding on each other, mingling sweat with strangers. She couldn't find that detachment of not only personal hygiene but with the shield she had places around herself.

"Perfectly good shield it is too," Sarah thought, lounging back on a large rock that somewhat resembled a resting turtle.

She let the carefree ocean breeze dance with her hair as she sunk into her long awaited solitude. Back home, the breeze had smelled like falling leaves, crisp mornings, glowing spring sunlight and heavy grass lulls. But it never smelled like it did here. That had been partly the reason why Sarah had chosen to go to college on the opposite side of the country. The entire sky seemed to look different here, more open and questioning. When she had first stepped off the plane and was carted to the dorms, she couldn't keep her eyes peeled from the windows.

"Mountains! Real mountains!" And after saying that she had remained silent for the remainder of the day, with the exception of a polite conversation with her new roommate, Lily.

Sarah had clung to the landscape; its green hills and cavorting clouds seemed to call to her. The decision to remain here and buy an apartment for herself had really been an easy one in the end. The thought of going home now scared her, more than she wanted to admit. Toby was beginning to get to the age where he had enough sense to doubt, but without the knowledge of how to control his thoughts. The last time she had called home, Karen had seemed a mess, if her breathy and slightly scratchy voice were any clue. Toby had grabbed the phone away from her seconds into their conversation.

"Sarah! Sarah! You'll never guess what I did today. Daddy took me fishing and I caught a fish! A big one! It was really weird looking and it acted all the weird and floppy, but that's okay because Daddy said that we were gonna put it right back in the lake and it could see its family again. Daddy said that I could go fishing next weekend too. I'm gonna catch an even bigger one! It's gonna be 10 feet long and have big, red eyes and I'll pull really really har…"

"TOBY! DID YOU PICK UP YOUR TOYS…..? OW! DAMNIT TOBY!" Sarah could hear her father yelling in the background and secretly giggled to herself. He rarely had raised his voice to her, but when he did his face had a slight tendency to turn to the shade of freshly made grape kool-aide.

"Uh oh. Bye Sarah!" Toby said as he had slammed the phone back down on the receiver.

That had been the last time she talked to her family before deciding to rent out the apartment, where she was currently and still firmly not about to get any sleep. She had walked to the living room sliding door and sat on the arm of the plush cushioned chair she had strategically placed so she could see the view. Now when she called her family, Toby refused to talk to her and her Dad spoke to her in a somewhat sullen tone. She did miss being with her family, but being there was just too hard. Recollections of torturous taunts and cruel classmates in High School and the doubting eyebrows of her best friends were the ones that reminded her of her past home.

Here, she didn't have to face that past. The place she had once called home had become a factory of skepticism for her, where she had once been a spoiled teenager, she had grown into a withdrawn young woman. No, she was not labeled as being a silly little girl with wild musings of magic and glamour here. No one called her crazy or jeered at her.

Her new home left her without family, and only a selection of a few friends she made in college that had ended up staying nearby. Yet, she did have the consolation of her dreams which flitted in and out of her bedtime head most unexpectedly.

All thoughts of her list faded off in the distance as she stared out the window, clutching a freshly brewed cup of tea to her breast and a mind swirling with thoughts of a little hard worn man in a leather jerkin.

**A/N It would be greatly appreciated for anyone, of any size, shape or form (that means you too, little albatross) could give me a review. Remember, this is the only way in which I can honestly know if I can get better for you lovelies. I promise tons of good karma and an excited squeal from the post behind my computer. Please::begs on both knees::**


	2. Chapter 2

**::cough cough:: This is announcement number one, five, eight, zero, zero, zero, two. You have all been informed that I do not own the Labyrinth or any of its characters. This message is programmed to explode unless you notice the fact that I made up some charming characters myself and that the Goblin King is the most beautiful creature to have walked the face of this earth. (Just kidding about that second part guys)(No I wasn't).**

Chapter Two.

"Oh crap."

Sarah rapidly opened her eyes as light flooded her field of vision. Where once she had been quietly pondering on the elbow of the chair, she was now draped across with her legs pointing to the sky and her arms stretched out towards the ground.

"Crap. Crap. Crap."

She could faintly hear the alarm clock delicately buzzing in her bedroom as she scrambled to rise from her sleepy throne. In theory, the art of getting out of a chair was easier than untangling oneself from bed sheets, but her and theories were disagreeing once again.

Okay, one foot on the ground. Now two. She was making progress, albeit slower than she wanted to. Finally standing from the purple velvet chair, Sarah began to sprint towards her bedroom in effort to see just how much trouble she was in.

The alarm clock blinked,

11:27

11:27

11:27

11:28

Cursing her luck, she ran to the bathroom to assess the damage. Surprisingly, her hair had not formed its usual rats nest, but had instead settled into an extra volumized coiffure. With just a few strokes of the brush through her chocolate brown hair, it began to shine enough that it became potential green-faced jealously. Finally nodding to herself in mirror, Sarah snatched up her toothbrush and squirted on toothpaste. As she began her machine-like brushing, she began to think of all the potential scenarios of her almost certain doomed fate.

1.) She could get fired

"Oh, WHY did the auction have to be today?"

2.) She could go on probation

3.) She could jauntily walk into the auction and when questioned, declared that she had been there the entire time

"No, no, no. He would see through that lie a thousand miles away."

4.) She could get fired

5.) How did she possibly forget about this last night?

6.) She could get fired

"Crap! Why today of all days?!"

Sarah quickly sped to her wardrobe as she exited the bathroom now somewhat refreshed. With no time to be picky, she grabbed and donned the first shirt and pair of pants that she could get a hold of. Throwing on her favorite pair of kitten heels, Sarah snatched her coat and her keys as she made her way to her front door. Twisting the knob and sticking her hand in her purse simultaneously, she somehow managed to make it out of her apartment in a single piece. Pulling the key from the now locked door and throwing it back in her purse, she suddenly stopped as she heard a loud and distinctly upset,

"MMMMRRRROWW!"

Jenkins. Oh poor Jenkins! She had forgotten to fill his bowl in her frantic race out the door. Dropping her umbrella and purse to the ground, Sarah now commenced in the mighty quest in searching for her house keys in the purse of despair. Chuckling to herself, she thought,

"At least I know the Goblins haven't taken them." And paused as she considered the possibilities.

"Goblins, Gnomes, Dwarves, I don't care who the hell you are, just give me back my keys!" She exclaimed in exasperation and no sooner had she, than in the corner of her purse two bright silver keys shone back at her.

Grumbling as she forcefully shoved the house key in the lock, Sarah opened the door once again, this time hearing it squeaking in protest. Jenkins sat on the kitchen counter and gave her a puzzled look with his head slightly bent towards the side. His amber eyes shone at Sarah with both a sense of relief and disdain.

"Oh, Jenkies, I'm so sorry. Here, let me give you extra this morning and I promise that I'll bring you that catnip tonight."

He continued to sit on the counter, as if to show her his best impression of a stone cat that he could muster. He was doing a very good job of it too. Sarah stared at him for a few moments before the recollection of her urgency came flooding back to her.

"Crap. Auction. Crap. Late. Crap!"

And she sped out the door for the second time that morning.

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Mr. Rutherford had seemed a nice enough man. In her first two weeks of working in his antique shop she had begun to slowly get to know the man. He had admired her resume and complimented her schooling; he was certainly a better boss than most people could boast about. He was in his late fifties, tall and disguised by a flash of jet-black hair casually streaked with gray. He seemed vital and lean enough to pass for his mid thirties. When Sarah had talked to him over the phone, confirming an interview, she had pictured him as the classic rotund old man with a jolly face and cutting quips. The latter had turned out to be true, but when she walked into his cluttered yet remarkably organized store, she was slightly speechless at his appearance.

"Hello, you must be Ms. Williams. I'm Peter, Peter Rutherford."

He smiled at her down a perfectly chiseled nose and tilted his head slightly to the side. Sarah stuck out her hand and chanced a smile back up at man molded like Apollo.

"Hi, I'm Sarah," she responded and immediately began to mentally kick herself for the silly, love-struck girl look that was now plastered to her face. He chuckled and proceeded to lead her to his office, commenting on how he was really looking forward to make her acquaintance. He was charismatic and captivating, and Sarah immediately knew that she could get used to working with him.

"So Sarah, it was lovely meeting you. I hope I have the pleasure of seeing you next Monday at eight."

"What?"

"I am offering you the job. Is this suitable to you?" He said as a smile crept to his mouth and he laughed quietly to himself.

"Oh! Yes! That would be wonderful!" Sarah had to clasp her hands together to avoid reaching across the table and hugging him.

"Good. If you want to stop by tomorrow afternoon, I can give you some forms to fill out and some literature to let you know the details of what pieces the shop owns and so on." He was now smiling completely at her and his blue eyes sparkled in the store's dim afternoon light.

Sarah had left the store and kept her emotions in check until she had driven three and a half blocks away from the building. Passing the first steel sky-rise to her right, she threw out a fist and whooped. Her first real job out of college! Majoring in Art History had been a gamble, but she was willing to take the risk despite the numerous warnings of how drafty cardboard boxes were in the winter.

The next few weeks working with Mr. Rutherford flew by in a whirlwind. The antique store was full to the brim of everything from modern memorabilia to artwork from the 18th Century. To sum it tall up, Sarah was existing in a dreamland. She catalogued, hobnobbed with the wealthy art buyers, ran the front of the store and did millions of miscellaneous tasks for Mr. Rutherford. There were five other people that worked with Sarah, but only one, Rachel, had a similar schedule and job as she did. Mr. Rutherford didn't believe in hiring people for one single job,

"People get bored. And when they are not intrigued by what they are doing, my store suffers. Also, bored people do not provide the best experience for my customers. And I hate to see my employees looking like their pet goldfish has just died."

Sarah was kept on her toes and constantly found herself back at home, on her computer, researching a new piece that had just come in. Her job began to happily consume her life and it showed.

"Sarah," he said as she came in one morning with an over-sized bag swung about her shoulders, "what would you think of helping me at the auction next weekend?"

Peter had hired Sarah on the spot because he had seen the passion just hidden behind her hooded eyes and straight brown hair. She was a lovely girl and seemed to posses something he was unable to precisely pin down. He had noticed how she seemed to walk in every morning with an energy that rivaled his own. He was curious to see just how much zeal she had when it came to selling the precious objects and keeping a watchful eye out for potential buyers and sellers. She agreed to help him most readily, and walked with a bounce in her step for the rest of the day.

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Sarah turned into the parking lot of the auction after heartily cursing every red light that she got stuck behind. After shaking an imaginary stick at the minivan ahead of her, she pulled into a spot that she calculated to be about one dozen light years from the actual building. As fast as her feet could carry her, she sprinted to the glass doors and glanced down at her watch.

12:13

Smoothing down her hair and catching her breath, Sarah prepared her last words.

"I am sooooo sorry! I know how late I am! It's just, my cat. He-….no. That's stupid. Maybe I can talk about insomnia? Yeah! Yeah! I should throw in a counselor in there too for good measure. Perhaps I should also-"

"Sarah?"

"What? I mean, yes?"

"You are late. Very late, to be exact."

Sarah stood just inside of the revolving doors staring straight at a certain Mr. Rutherford's sea crest eyes. Silent, she could barely make out more than a stumbled grunt and a fearfully apologetic look that led Mr. Rutherford to sigh.

"Sarah."

"Yes?"

"Get inside."

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**Message number one, five, eight, zero, zero, zero, two has been recommenced in order to perhaps sway you into reviewing me. This message does not care if you say it is horrible. This message is (regrettably) a little desperate now. This message will now destroy itself in Ten….nine….eight….seven….six…five…four…three…two…one-and-a-half………………………….. **

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	3. Chapter 3

**Bonjour! I am happy to see from you a third time round! How are you? And the weather? Okay, now that I have the customary greeting down, lets get to the nitty gritty stuff: I do not own or claim to own Labyrinth or any of its normal characters or its extremely gorgeous characters. I do own my peeps though.**

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Inside the auction had already begun. One might not have noticed by the calm exteriors of the buyers, but each was quietly calculating their purchases. Would that blue vase from the 1920's worth two thousand dollars? Was that fan really from a burgeoning young debutant? Would that man in front of them outbid them for the garden gnome that had supposedly been in front of their favorite movie director's house?

Sarah followed Peter as he confidently walked behind the debating crowd. Her heels tapped sharply on the polished marble floor and her eyes scanned the large room that the auction was taking place in. Above her, she spied a large and sparkling chandelier held up by golden chains. The room itself was simple and annulled the considerable adornments giving off an ostentatious air.

The bidding was fierce and precise. The auctioneers voice commanded the room as the buyers silently held up their representing numbers. It was almost like a dance, precise and accurate to the mark. Each number that poked up seemed to have its own choreography among the others.

"Sold!" and the gavel hit the desk. "Sold to number 141 for six hundred dollars." The woman behind the number stood up to claim her prize.

"If you will follow me, ma'am," an attendant muttered to her as they exited out of the chandelier room into a bright corridor. The door lightly closed behind them and the bidding resumed on now a small statuette of what appeared to be Aphrodite.

Sarah watched intently at the bidders as they began their ballet of numbers once again. Perhaps she was becoming too hypnotized by the flashing signs, or being lulled by the auctioneer's steady voice, but at that very moment Sarah stopped walking and began falling into the arms of a very surprised Mr. Rutherford.

He had stopped only a second ahead of her, at the far window of the room next to the door that led to the lighted hallway. Turning, he was only able to hold out his arms to counter his balance as Sarah tumbled towards him. Almost in a painfully slow motion, Sarah felt herself pushing him to the ground as every muscle in her body went into hyper sensitive mode.

"Ow," she muffled into his silken shirt trying to regain any sense of what had just happened. She was on the ground, no, not on the ground but on something softer. Someone softer. She was in a marble room. There were people. Lots of people. People staring at her. Now there was a gentle rocking below her as the full throttle of the entire situation hit her and Mr. Rutherford chuckled. Sarah scrambled up, avoiding the accusing glances from the tailored bidders. As quickly as she could, Sarah backed herself into the door and swerved around a now perturbed attendant trying to take hold of the situation.

Now inside bright hallway, Sarah covered her face with her hands reveling in her shame.

"Oh God, now I will forever be known as 'That-girl-who-fell-and-looked-like-a-complete-idiot.' Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. This day is just getting better and better. Oh, oh, oh…" she continued groaning out her agony.

"Now Sarah, when I said I wanted you to help out with the auction, I didn't mean for you to give them a show and intermission," Peter laughed as he now entered behind her and carefully closed the door. He was still brushing himself off and chuckling as Sarah turned around to face him.

"You can fire me now. Really. I would totally understand. I mean, I would if I was in your case. Okay, maybe not fire myself, but a really strong talking too would be in order." She looked up at him and to her surprise; he was neither angry nor embarrassed. Quite the contrary, he was completely amused and looking back down at her with gleaming eyes and a crooked smile.

"Sarah, for that, I am willing to forgive your tardiness and all future lateness. Just as long as you promise me a performance like that again though."

"Crap, how bad was it?" Sarah replied, still turning a bright cherry color.

"Terrible, horrible and wonderful at the same time. I am hoping I have some nasty bruises from this. My 'Sarah battle wounds'."

Sarah couldn't help but to glance up at him in surprise. He had been kind, he had been funny and witty, and all those things you love in a good boss. Yet, this was the first time he had ever spoken to her, well, like a friend would.

Peter was still grinning to himself, and now watching her take in his demeanor he beamed even more. For some reason, he could not stop himself from laughing about the whole experience. He couldn't resist poking fun at her, it was just too easy! And seeing that blush cover her face wasn't a bad sight either.

The attendant walked back in through the door, this time with a tall and lanky man following behind. As he ushered the winner through the hallway, he gave the two an accusatory look.

"Aah. I can see that you are really good at making friends as well!" Peter exclaimed as the attendant shut one of the doors leading out from the corridor with a bang.

"As many as possible," Sarah muttered more to herself than in response.

Mr. Rutherford turned to her and began walking down the hallway to the door on the far right. "As much as I love your adeptness at being a true-blue hooligan, we really must be getting back to work," he said somberly.

They both walked down the carpeted hall until they reached an ornate door covered in swirling designs. What was inside the door was infinitely more impressive to Sarah though. Her first look at interior of the room allowed her to completely block out any immediate recollection of the humiliating fall. On every table, shelf, pedestal and any other available spot were precious collectibles. She had seen many at her job at the antique store, but the sheer vastness of this collection left her semi-speechless.

"Now, these are some of the items today that are either going to be a part of the official auction, be sold throughout the day, go into the store for future sale or be stored for later use. A lot of these things I recently bought at an estate sale, or I have bought today so far. In the future, we will need to organize all of them. I thought you might like to see them." Peter saw Sarah's jaw drop and watched as she began to lustfully eye the items around her.

"But for now, you are going to be my helper in delivering the goods to the wonderful bidders who are out there making our living possible," and with that he gestured Sarah out of the treasure room and into the one that the attendant had gone through with the buyer. This one was also full with objects, but they somehow lacked something that the smaller room she had just seen had.

"I expect you have familiarized yourself with everything here?" He asked and she nodded. "Well then, I will get out of your way and allow you to help this young gentleman," as he spoke, a man in his late twenties walked in and looked at them with a smug expression donning his face. He, apparently, had just won what he considered to be the biggest prize at the entire auction: a red piece of china decorated in an art nouveau style that was incredibly rare. Sarah eyed him and gestured for him to come to her. She began to congratulate him for winning and go through the usual assortments of description of the piece as it was brought back to them from the main room. As she continued to speak, Mr. Rutherford winked at her and walked out, leaving Sarah alone with the surly attendant and the inquisitive winner.

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Sarah was exhausted, no more than that, she was near death it seemed. The Auction had taken up the rest of the day and it was now ten-o-clock at night, at least that's what the roman numbered clock pointed out to her as it ticked above her head. She had been talking to buyers all afternoon and into the early evening, until the full auction had ended. After that, she had the lucky job of helping to put away and pack up various items that had been used during the day. She had packed and reorganized until she was near tears and finally decided that it was due time to go back to her cozy apartment.

Mr. Rutherford had been in and out of the back room helping her and talking with the other attendants hired to help. He had just been to see her, but Sarah now realized that she needed to leave: she had gone to the point of no return fatigue wise. She stepped out of the room and back into the carpeted hallway now dappled by the moon light coming through the windows,

"Mr. Rutherford? Sir? Is anyone else here?" No one responded and Sarah shrugged her shoulders. Perhaps he had left already or maybe he had gone to another part of the building. Sarah stood there for a couple more seconds before deciding to just go ahead and leave, but as she turned, the temptation flew back at her. She had to get another look at that room overflowing with precious objects. Her feet muffled by the red carpet underneath, she stuck out her hand to turn the door handle.

"I'm not doing anything wrong, it's okay Sarah. You can just go in and take another look," she said to herself, comforting any last qualms that might override her curiosity. She flicked on the light switch to the room and took in a deep breath. Everything inside was just so lovely and seemed to have an air of majesty about it. She walked in and this time began to examine the pieces individually one-by-one. As an Art History major, she had learned to distinguish the smallest details and appreciate good art for what it was. The items in this room, so far, had all been exquisitely made.

As she finished up looking at the things on the table, she moved over the shelving along the walls. A particular piece caught her eye and led her to stutter on a hic-up stuck in her throat. A statue, no larger than her forearm, stood there staring up at her. It was of tree, golden and strong, with little fruits coating its top. The entire statue glowed in its golden exterior and the fruits lining the leaves were clear, glass or crystal balls shaped to what appeared to be an apple. Sarah stopped and stared at it. She could not tear her eyes away from how the delicate branches extended from the tree or how she could almost get that feeling that she could tell the ripe fruits from the others. It wasn't until she heard her name being called that she turned her head away.

"Sarah? Sarah? Are you all right?" Mr. Rutherford asked, peering at her from the outline of the doorway. Sarah smiled up at him and nodded her head.

"I'm fine. I just wanted to get one last look at the stuff in here before I went home. They're just so beautiful." And with that, Sarah walked to him and back into the hallway, turning off the lights and shutting the door behind her.

"How about we go on home?" She asked back with a grin and they both proceeded to walk towards their cars and out of the imposing building.

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The sun crested over the distant peaks, dappling the sky in an orange glow. With each tendril of sunlight creeping out of the night, the sky grew brighter. The sun was not greeting the world with a smiling face; instead it delighted in blaring its rays to top volume in effort to wake up the sleeping land. The light skulked its way to every corner of the Underground, where it landed on a massive stone fortress. Quickly, it climbed up and up to the towers and peaked roofs. As the rays discovered the vast castle, a curious beam made its way into a rounded window and onto the lap of a very disgruntled and offended looking Goblin King.

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**A/N Surprise! I am asking for your help again in reviewing me. I take all kinds of reviews, even little emoticons are exciting! Just tell me what you liked, disliked or hope to see in the future. So, I hope you enjoyed this third chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thank you!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Dear Reader,**

**I don't own Sarah, Jareth, the settings of the Goblin Kingdom or anything else associated with the Labyrinth. I do hope you like little Batten. I think he's cute. (No, no, no, I know Jareth-poo is still the cutest, don't worry…) So, keep your shorts on and let's get on with the story!**

**Hugs and kisses,**

**Jane**

Jareth had been sitting in the lonely tower room since the sun had gone down the previous night. He wasn't as much sitting as he was seething. Glancing out the window with a distinct frown smothered across his chiseled face, he drew up one, two, three crystals and began to swirl them around in his hand.

"It had to be today. Today of all days," he growled to himself.

The meeting with all the other Kingdoms around the Goblin Kingdom happened twice a year. It wasn't that it wasn't exceptionally boring. It wasn't that seeing the other Kings and Queens was annoying. No, wondering around a crowded room and listening to the small talk infiltrated with deep political musings was highly entertaining. It was almost like a game for Jareth to discover as many subplots in a conversation as possible. He might even throw a couple more devious schemes into the mix if he felt so inclined.

He had actually been quite looking forward for the entire affair. It wasn't too often that he got out of his great castle, so any chance to leave was a blessing. The Goblin Kingdom was a full time task, one that required him to not only manage an entire race, but to handle the Labyrinth and the lost children wished to him. He certainly did not get out of his kingdom very often at all.

Jareth was still scowling as he watched the sun rise over the horizon.

Every year that had passed by had given rise to an equally increasing amount of frustration, resentment and more than enough plans of revenge. Never one to take anything for granted, this one of the seven mantras of the Goblin Kingdom had been firmly pressed in place ever since he had been a young boy, the Goblin King considered the significance of the day. Yet as he began to picture that same day, a mere decade ago, the wounds clearly yelled out that they were yet still too raw to be battered around so harshly. Closing up his mind, for the one hundred and eighty sixth time that morning, Jareth turned from the window at back into the stone room he had spent the night in.

It was smaller than his normal bedchambers, but the night had been too large so he had decided to settle into the womb of the room. Instead of curling into the richly luxurious dark blue covers, Jareth had fallen asleep in a plush purple chair with an equally swanky ottoman to rest his lanky frame on. Although the seat had fulfilled more than a chair's usual amount of comfort, he had woken up with a cramp in his neck almost as bothersome as the discomfort in the pit of his stomach.

No, this was most certainly not going to be a good day.

The knock at the door woke him as a sharp rap was again repeated on the thick wooden surface.

"Your Highness. Your Highness?" called a weak and high-pitched voice.

"Yes, yes, yes," he grumbled back, "by all means, come in Batten." Before he had even managed to finish, a small and slightly squished looking Goblin plodded in the room, shoving the door open first with his back then excitedly slamming it closed with the rear of his foot, all the while keeping a tray with a cup and coffee perched precariously on top from falling to the floor.

Ah, yes, just what he needed first in the morning, a cup of coffee and a manic dwarf of a goblin with every intention of driving him slowly insane.

Batten set (or tossed, thought Jareth) the tray on the little side table next to the chair and stepped back with a satisfied grin. Somehow the goblins had no trouble at all keeping a snickering smile on their face, even in the presence of a perturbed King. Goblins were foolhardy, fun loving, mischievous little creatures that were fiercely loyal to themselves and their king. They only forgot about the loyalty to the latter half of that spectrum some of the time. But mostly, the goblins lived contentedly in their realm, wreaking havoc whenever possible and getting into the most unpredictable situations that they could. Sometimes, if they were lucky, select goblins were chosen to travel with Jareth to the Aboveground.

Jareth eyed the slightly spilt cup and tray and glanced back up at the miniature goblin.

"Yes?"

"Your Highness, sir, we were wondering if… well, sir, we wanted to know if we were going to be able to come with you today… because, you see your Highness, we…"

"No," he grunted back. Not in a trillion years type of no. The idea of the goblins coming with him to the Grand Gathering sent certain shivers of fear up his spine that he would rather ignore at that point.

Batten looked down at the ground dejectedly and sauntered back out of the room. Jareth stared at the back of the door several seconds after it had been heaved closed, deep in thought for the second time that morning. With a sigh, he thought of the only good thing about the morning, picked up the cup and took a good long chug of it.

Some things in the Goblin castle could be completely bizarre and others as bare and boring as the castles in the Aboveground were. The mix shifted to and fro, along with the charging body of the Labyrinth surrounding it. Containing the heart of the Labyrinth, the castle reflected the maze's qualities, the good and the bad.

Sitting back down in his chair, Jareth watched as the bathroom door on the other side of the room began to silently sidle across the wall towards the window, stopping directly before the interior curved towards the outside. He smiled to himself; the Labyrinth was consistently inconsistent in a predictable way, just the way he liked it. Placing his palm out, he willed a crystal into existence and gently blew on it, coaxing the sphere towards the bathroom. Seconds later, he could see steam billow out from beneath the edge of the door and he got up to prepare for the big day ahead.

Exiting the spacious tub, Jareth allowed his mind to wander again. Ten years had gone by so quickly, too quickly in fact. He could remember seeing her face when he had offered her her dreams for the second time. Her face had been strong, youthful, passionate, and did he detect a hint of regret? It was that last flutter of sadness that he saw in her eyes that kept his mind repeating the scene over and over in his head. It was like that look had become a hook and he was being reeled in, willingly or not. He pulled up his breeches and stretched his long arms through a black velvet jacket as he continued to muse over her adventures. Stepping out of the concealed room, he entered back into the cold and harsh reality of the Goblin Kingdom. He wasn't allowed to brood for too long, being the King of a realm full of rebels.

Jareth prepared himself for the Great Gathering that day, attempting to keep his mind busy enough so that it didn't wander to a certain face with certain green eyes calling to him. Walking about the Labyrinth and checking the nooks and crannies could take months to handle, and he found it the perfect activity before he was summoned. The Labyrinth contained three main sections that would never vary: the inner wall, the outer wall and the bog of eternal stench. Otherwise, the maze shifted endlessly, causing where a bush was one day to be transported five miles the next hour.

Soon enough, the sun began to teeter from its central point in the sky and Jareth grinded his teeth, preparing himself for the massive ball and social event he was attending. He summoned a crystal and transformed his outfit to one befitting a King, rich in deep purples and blacks with a long cape fluttering behind his back. He looked at himself, satisfied with the effect and transported himself with another crystal to the Goblin castle one last time before his departure.

"Grizzle! Halmwrac!" he called, summoning them to the throne room. Two large goblins with fluffy white beards scurried to him as fast as their aged legs could carry them.

"Good, you're here. As you know, I want you to keep an eye on things when I am gone. Just make sure my citizens don't do anything too awful or the Labyrinth doesn't make a major move. If that's the case, than I want you to summon me." He gestured for them to come to him and they obeyed with hands held out, accepting the crystal he was offering.

"Of course your Majesty," they both replied, mimicking the other and mumbling under their breath in a manner that would be seen as seen as pretentious by other goblins. Jareth scanned the throne room and its numerous scatter-brained occupants one last time before he called a sphere to take him to the Elf Kingdom. Traveling by crystal was easy and smooth, one hardly felt the trip take place at all and it went by in a matter of moments.

Landing in the center of a great room, Jareth looked around him to find himself in a hall especially reserved for guests coming in by magic. It was covered with a tiled dome and surrounded by great white pillars, meant to impress the newcomers. Jareth merely bypassed the grandeur, avoiding the glamour like the plague. Dodging around other new arrivals, he made his way to the front of the room to be greeted by the Elvin King and Queen.

"King Jareth, we are most pleased that you could come this year. It is wonderful to see you again," remarked the Queen as she smiled down at him, hiding her sideways smirk from her diligent husband. "And I hope to see you again and again tonight as well, your Highness." With that, she laughed and leaned back towards her husband and waved the Goblin King off.

It wasn't uncommon for royals, or anyone else for that matter, to stray a time or two or twenty from their monogamous relationship. It was seen as a token of health by some and the scapegoat of the mind by others. No matter who it was, the fact that the Elvin Queen and Jareth had a past of sneaking off together in the midst of a crowd was not one that was reprimanded, yet it did provide a juicy bit of gossip for the many tongues to wag.

A tall, thin elf stood at the doorway and beckoned Jareth to follow him so that he could lead him to his rooms. Jareth knew, from time and time again, the calculations of the Great Gatherings. A small meet and greet, get acclimated and be shown off the kingdom you're staying at, wine and dine and finally, begin the ball, all the while intermingling with the other nobility of the Underground.

"Check one," thought Jareth as he surveyed his temporary nightly domain. The room was oversized and sparsely decorated, keeping in line with the basics of the Elvin culture. Only the most pure and precious items were used as decorations and a metallic rawness consumed the room. Jareth found it fitting for his current mood and flopped onto his bed in a most un-kingly like fashion.

It was going to be a long night.

It was going to be even longer if her couldn't stop her from invading his head too.

**A/N Thank you so much for reading my story! I am developing a pretty cool plot right now, so it should be coming together soon. Or perhaps it already has come together, pwuhahahaha! I would adore you forever if you would give me some feedback on my writing and/or the story. This is my first work of fiction EVER and I really want to know how to make myself better. You guys are wonderful!**


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